Chapter 6: What Rachel Told Me to Do First
Rachel answered on the second ring.
I had stepped outside again, same back porch, same cool air.
It was just past eight in the morning.
Inside, I could hear Evelyn's voice carrying from the kitchen — she'd taken over making pancakes for the kids, which was exactly the kind of move that looked generous and kept her in the room.
"Joanna told me a little," Rachel said.
"Tell me the rest."
I did.
I was getting faster at telling it.
That felt like a bad sign.
Rachel listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she asked three questions: Was my name on the mortgage?
Had we ever discussed separation?
Did I have independent access to our bank accounts?
"Yes, yes, and yes," I said.
"Good.
That matters." A pause.
"The emails — you photographed them?"
"Nineteen so far.
There are forty-three total."
"Get the rest today.
Before he realizes you have access to the account."
"He may already know.
His mother was listening in the hallway last night.
She knows I found something."
"Then you may have less time than you think." Rachel's voice was steady and practical, which was exactly what I needed.
"Here's what I want you to do today.
Get the remaining emails.
Screenshot any financial accounts you have shared access to — balances, recent transactions, everything.
If there are any joint savings, note the current amounts.
Don't move anything yet.
Just document."
"Okay."
"And Clara — don't tell him you've spoken to me.
Don't tell him you're documenting anything.
Keep the conversation as normal as possible."
"He's barely spoken to me since last night."
"That's fine.
Normal doesn't mean warm.
It just means don't tip your hand further."
I heard the back door open.
I turned.
Mark stood in the doorway.
He was dressed, which meant he'd been up longer than I'd realized.
"I have to go," I said into the phone.
"Thank you."
I hung up before Rachel could respond.
Mark looked at me.
He had his keys in his hand.
"I'm going to pick up some things," he said.
"For the kids.
Groceries."
"It's eight in the morning."
"The store opens at seven."
We looked at each other across the porch.
"Who was that?" he asked.
"Joanna," I said.
Same answer as last night.
Something in his expression shifted.
He knew I was lying.
I knew he knew.
Neither of us said so.
"We should talk," he said.
"Later.
When my mother isn't here."
"Your mother is welcome to be here for any conversation we have," I said.
"Since she's apparently been part of this one for a while."
His jaw tightened.
"That's not fair."
"Mark." I kept my voice quiet.
"Go get your groceries."
He stood there another moment.
Then he went back inside, and thirty seconds later I heard the front door close and his car start in the driveway.
I went straight to the study.
The laptop was exactly where I'd left it.
I opened it, pulled up his email, and photographed the remaining twenty-four emails as fast as I could.
My hands were steady.
I kept listening for footsteps.
The last email in the thread was dated four days ago.
Three days before Evelyn had arrived.
Diane had written: *Is everything in place?
Does she suspect anything?*
Mark had replied: *No.
She thinks my mother is coming to help.*
I stared at that for a long moment.
Then I photographed it, closed the laptop, and walked out of the study.
Evelyn was in the hallway.
She had a laundry basket under one arm.
My laundry.
She'd apparently decided to do a wash.
We stood three feet apart.
"Find what you were looking for?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Actually, I did."
She studied my face.
Whatever she was looking for, she didn't find it.
"Mark is going to want to talk to you when he gets back," she said.
"I know."
"Clara." She shifted the basket.
Her voice dropped.
"Think about your children before you do something you can't take back."
"I think about my children every single day," I said.
"That's exactly why I'm doing this."
I walked past her to the kitchen.
I poured myself a third cup of coffee.
May you like
My hands were still steady.
But my chest felt like something had been sitting on it for months and had only just gotten heavier.
